Canary
by Airrei
Summary: AU. Shizaya. As a poison tester since birth, all he wanted was to repay the blonde who helped him escape. Problem: he's a canary. Wishing to be human even when abandoned, it came true. Though with a price of not being able to be loved back.
1. Chapter 1

I know I should be working on some other stuff, but I had a severe writer's block all of yesterday. So, uhhh, rehab fic.

-Note- Very AU. As usual, crackish, looks like something that came out of Disney in a sense that Izaya is a magical transforming canary, and Simon is the fricking fairy godmother. Pairing is Shizaya. Spoilers on Izaya's many aliases.

* * *

**Canary  
**_part1;_

* * *

A beautiful chirp comes from a young, beautiful canary. His feathers gleam pleasantly, reflecting the dim lights of the ceiling and glowing pure golden, contrasting to the silver cage. Uniquely patterned, the songbird supports gray tufts of feathers around his neck, and his wings are streaked with charcoal lines. A short, high pitched whistle sounded, vibrating into a crescendo from piano to forte as the lungs and vocal cords built up to support the melody. Finally, bursting into a series of staccatos, triplets, and the final fermata, the underground casino turns to full silence.

A heavy looking bald man, presumably in his mid-fifties, sat across two young men over the poker table. They were an odd bunch, one donning himself in the outfit of a bartender's, wearing shocking blue sunglasses that clashed with his blonde hair. The other man, a tanned brunette with dreadlocks, walked over, holding a fine bottle of wine to serve. Puffing gray smoke rings unflatteringly into the air, the repulsive old man smacked his lips and sighed.

"Pass it by Nakura first," He ordered, beckoning the confused brunette towards the canary bird. Producing a low, ruffled noise from the pit of his stomach, the canary fluttered it's wings bemusing his onlookers. If they didn't know any better, they could have sworn the bird knew of his own demise. Luckily, as he pecked at the luscious liquid, there was no sign of poison.

"Tom-san…" The blonde looked irritated, seemingly offended by the fact that they would be accused of even trying to poison their client. He was gritting his teeth and staring at the nonchalant skinhead in an aggravated manner. It looked like poisoning was no where near his style, and the bulging veins along his hands as he clenched and unclenched started to look menacing.

"Shizuo, watch your temper… I'm sorry about him, Nezu-san. But…" The one named Tom chuckled bitterly while pouring another glass. "If you are going to refuse us one more time, I've no choice…"

The canary watched the scene unfold while he remained unusually silent and still all throughout the occurrence. The counting down, his master losing his cool, tables flipping over, slot machines uprooted, Tom walking over to collect the silver case, his master running as fast as his fat body allowed him, swinging of pool sticks, then eventually the pool tables. Soon the tremendous human caused earthquake shook the cage off its stand and crashed to the ground. Not knowing what was going on, Nakura would flutter furiously, his world tilted sideways and eventually his poor wing coming in contact with the cold ground. He squawked sharply, squirming like a fish on land.

When all was done and broken, his master would be nowhere in sight. Desperate not to be forgotten, a forlorn chirp could still be heard from the rubble, like the cry of one who still hangs onto life even though there was no meaning to be kept alive from the beginning.

And a generous hand would easily break into the cage and scoop him up.

* * *

"Looks like you're doing a little better."

Shizuo, his glasses crooked and shirt buttoned up with at least one or two places off, dashed to the attic to meet a happily chattering bird. The blonde's pants were zipped up, but the belt hung loosely unbuckled around his hips. It looked like he just got up and dressed himself in a hurry, but it wasn't so. He had been awake. Awake throughout the entire morning probably, ever since 4 AM, rolling and rolling off his bed as buried his head into the pillow and tossed around. This goddamned bird would not stop screeching ever since Shizuo took him home to nurse his wing.

As sudden as the blonde burst through the door though, the canary stopped wailing his song at the top of his lungs and instead cooed softly pecking at the entrance to the cage. He loved his new master, adored him, to the point that he would hurt his own vocal cords to get him up here as fast as possible. Shizuo sighed, exasperated. Then he walked to the cage and opened the entrance, sticking his hand inside and stroking the creature gently. The canary hummed lovingly, nudging his form into the coarse hands.

"Morning Kanra," The bird twittered a reply to the blonde. He had been renamed Kanra, Kan for sweet, and Ra for music. Though Shizuo might have somewhat regretted naming him that after the various wake up calls at extremely inappropriate times.

He gave the bird a short, caring smile before looking somewhat stern. He could not keep Kanra. He had agreed with the apartment owner that he would only keep the bird until the wing was fully healed. Plus, the yellow creature hadn't been exactly a favorite of the tenant's because of the constant disruption the singing was to everyone in the complex. Though his room was switched to the one directly below the attic, Kanra's singing could be heard probably to the very bottom of the building the way he kept at it. It was quite problematic… though Shizuo ended up feeling somber every time he thought about letting the bird go.

Unaware of this dilemma, the songbird stretched his wings, fluttering lightly and chirping to himself as if he were the happiest creature alive to be able to play with his master. The blonde's heart throbbed, stabbed by invisible daggers. This couldn't go on. He needed to let him go before he became even more attached.

Taking the whole cage outside, on the rooftop, Shizuo left the door open, waiting for the canary to flutter out. Kanra remained, confused, looking at the vast city with beady crimson eyes. He whistled nervously, scared of the open sky and the bright sun. He had always been underground, a drunken poison tester who did not strive to live freely, but to just keep on living. Kanra did not understand.

"Come on…" Shizuo's voice was borderline upset and frustrated. He clutched the bird into his hands and held him palm up towards the world. "Come on! Don't make me throw you!"

Hurt, and never hearing the blonde speak in such a harsh tone, Kanra fluttered his wings. Slowly, then gradually, until he was hovering in the air, keeping a distance, but frantically looking back, drifting in circles. Shizuo couldn't bear to look at the confused, rejected expression radiating from the canary. He just tossed the cage aside and stormed back down, away from the rooftop, away from the attic…away…

That night, all the inhabitants of the apartment would be treated to a beautiful song. Orchestrated by the winds, in the blinding stage of moonlight, a lachrymose sound that tugged one last time at the heart of his master, who in turn listened carefully at the very faint fluttering of tiny wings taking off.

* * *

Rain pelted down the next day. The gray, murky city looked oddly beautiful, as if wrapped around in a halo of white light, wherein the truth was that droplets were crashing down brutally on the concrete surface and bounding back up. Bleak eyes surveyed the scenery, wings drooping down, too heavy from the concentrated liquid matting everything about him down. If he could have cried, he would have. Sadly, he couldn't understand the emotions welling up within him, the intricate details of the sinking feeling he blamed on the ever gloomy sky and heavy waters. He couldn't know, because he was just a bird, that the pain throbbing deep within his animal heart was probably longing…

Probably love.

Instead, he chirped mournfully, lovingly… into the background of drizzling rain. The pitter patters keeping a deadly rhythm. Behind him, a man, enchanted by the beautiful noise crept upon the unsuspecting creature.

"How pretty," In a foreign tongue, the large man would speak. "Yet, your words will never reach the one you love."

Kanra fluttered, but he sensed no real danger in the bear like Russian. Watching dully he had no more reason to be cautious anymore. Poison never coursed through him, and even if his luck ended here, what was the difference? The canary chirped in a disgruntled manner. "What do you want?"

"I am merely someone who was entranced by your voice. In return for your symphony, I have come to repay you."

This time, Kanra was surprised. "You can understand me?"

"Yes, something like that," The man smiled warmly. "My magic is weak, however, due to the fact that I am unable to return to my homeland. I still sense a strong will of want from you. I could grant your wish…"

"Please! Turn me human!"

"Listen to me to the end. I can do that, however, there will need to be compensation," He looked stern for a second.

The warning never reached Kanra. He did not care. What more could he lose? He looked pleadingly into the Russian's eyes. "I don't care what it is. I…I just want to watch over someone. Even though he abandoned me, I don't care."

"The thing you want the most though, I would have to take. If I turn you into a human, there is but one rule. You may love them, but you shall not be loved back in return. You will never be able to ease your loneliness. Even then?"

"I don't care. I am not loved to begin with," Kanra tipped his golden head downward, and raindrops slipped down his eyes, as if he were crying…

"As you wish…"

* * *

"Orihara Izaya's doing…"

"Some crazyass information broker in Shinjuku…"

"What's he doing in 'Bukuro?"

Shizuo twitched in his seat. He drummed his fingers across the surface of the coffee table, across a tired looking Tom. Ever since the appearance of the new evil face, they had been pushed to the edge. In fact, the blonde had encountered this said crazy male before the day of his grand debut. Pushing two sides of the gang and selling information to pit them against each other, the bloody war ended in a confused mess. A name popped out, the same exact name on both sides…Orihara Izaya. What was he?

All the blonde could think of was though, the way their eyes met on the night of the gang fight. Those crimson eyes had flickered forlornly before contorting itself into a piercing stare of sheer amusement. Something didn't feel right, and from then Shizuo had been irritated. He disliked the way that guy manipulated a group of people. He disliked the way he was pulling strings safely from somewhere in Shinjuku, never dirtying his hands directly. The poisonous chill that was shot through his spines when their gazes connected.

It irritated him that something was without a doubt familiar about him.

* * *

_To be continued._

* * *

Probably going to finish this off next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you guys for all the support! I love all of you, aishiteru! Sorry it took so long, and hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Canary**  
_part 2;_

* * *

Tanaka Tom's cell phone went off, engaging in a somewhat catchy tune before he flipped it open to answer. After a short exchange of greetings, the tanned debt collector shot up from his seat. He smiled apologetically to his companion who had been sitting across from him, and excused himself to the café's bathroom. Shizuo watched in confusion. Tom may have been smiling, but he could feel a nervous vibe radiate from his backside.

"What is it?" Once inside and completely out of any earshot, Tom spoke in a deadpan voice, narrowing his eyes behind his glinting spectacles. The phone remained fairly quiet, resting like a sleeping baby over his shoulder before a faint chuckle ripped against the static. The debt collector watched anything but his own reflection in the mirror above the sinks. With his free hand, he clutched the faucet tightly, but did not move to turn it. He was waiting, anxiously, for the breathing on the other end to turn into words.

The sound of wind blowing could be heard at intervals. Tom wondered if the caller was outside or if he had been running. After a few minutes, a sarcastically aggravated sigh echoed from the other end. "I just wanted you to know. If you try to build up your pathetic army again, it won't be cleaned up as just a _gang war._"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sweat trickled down a rough cheek lingering below his jawbone.

"Oh, please," The male voice of the other end cackled. More whooshing wind sounds were made before it stopped suddenly during the climax of his outburst, indicating he had control over this noise. "I know what you've done, and I know how you're trying to get rid of the last evidence."

"Orihara Izaya…" Tom breathed dangerously close to his phone now. His grip on the water valve tightened and it turned slowly, droplets forming together and falling into a thin transparent string connecting the end of the spout to the basin. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," An answer arrived immediately this time. Nothing in his voice seemed to give the informer away, as he spun his chair once, before sharply stopping the movement with his heels and pushing back from his desk. The brunette sunk deeper into his chair as he flashed an insane smile at nobody. "I just think it's interesting how humans can betray each other so easily. Yet, I wouldn't recommend it this time. Heiwajima Shizuo is my prey."

With that, the bead of sweat dropped into the pool of water, Tom gazed at the undulation. _How did he find out?_

* * *

_Few months ago._

Dark red eyes, like overripe cherries, peered at the inhabitants of Ikebukuro. Izaya seated himself on the park's bench, shaded by the blossoming trees overhead. He watched a single male from afar. Golden hair, rustled in the breeze, revealing a warm smile that started to sink the same kind of heat into the former canary's freezing heart. It was unfair, but he was so transfixed that it didn't even matter what he thought. He wanted to be next to him receiving that kind expression instead of the foreign looking man in deadlocks.

It was a promise. Eyes lingered longingly, caressing the same rough hands and grasping it firmly with his mind, but it would slip away smoothly as if consciously avoiding him. The brunette's arms were numb, but he could never forget the feelings of his lost wings creasing lovingly under the calluses. The purpose for the male being human now was so he could watch over, and that was all. He smiled, but each and every time, it lost a little of its meaning, turning faker by the day.

Izaya plopped himself sideways on the bench, supporting his head up with the help of his arm. A phone vibrated in the noir jacket of his, a favorite, the fur around the corners making him feel secure in the habitual comfort of having something to sink his head into. He had done so often as a bird, and being a human didn't exactly get rid of all his routine.

The dazzling screen indicated he got a text, and the brunette didn't immediately recognize the name attached to it. It had became a hobby of his to raid the forums to talk to strangers. Things have been boring besides the daily stalking of Shizuo in which he only did see glimpses of his beloved blonde at the park. Other people could be interesting though, and source of tons of gossip about Ikebukuro that would never be on the news. Lately, Izaya himself had gotten into investigating such things, finding that without proper education, those where the easiest things he could do to earn money. He had an uncanny ear that picked up things from general conversations in the streets and eyes that surpassed a certain level in observation. And he had time. Lots of time.

The brunette would never consider to make friends though, but he sure did lead them on. Mostly girls with a wounded heart and sob stories were the target. Maybe because he could never be loved, that he was somewhat angry at them for wasting their time complaining on the net about broken hearts and family problems. He'd call them close, worm his way into their hearts and just when he was about to be accepted or even liked, he would shove them off completely. Rinse and repeat, the process made him forget his loneliness just a little during, but it would come back double the price right after. Just like a drug, he was addicted and craving something more.

Scrolling over his chat log, the brunette remembered why he was even talking to this girl who went by the handle name Roselia. She was a daughter of some rich company owner, and her father had been recently assassinated. Opening her message, the brunette yawned, but it was caught midway. He gazed at the letters, crimson eyes fluttering open and shut, as he read and read again.

-But I know who it was who killed my father, Nakura-san! I saw him. I won't ever forget how scary he looked. He had blonde hair and a pair of blue sunglasses that were angular. He was very tall, but also skinny. I remember that he was wearing some sort of black vest at the time, but if I see him again I'll definitely know.

Izaya jumped up and looked around. The blonde and his employer was nowhere to be seen. Something was amiss and he didn't like it. It looked like he was going to have to do more underground business…

* * *

Tom could recall Shizuo's perplexed eyes when he had been found holding the dead body of their client. They looked at each other like strangers, and he unconsciously hoped that the bodyguard would mistake it or dismiss it as a delusion. Instead, the blonde mouthed that he would not be able to turn in the upperclassman he so looked up to. Tom was enraged by this, feeling as though he had been belittled somehow. The piercing brown eyes that were higher in altitude already, looking upset, somewhat sympathetic. After that day, nightmare after nightmare rolled through his sleeping mind, replaying that event.

The mental stress had built up long before that. The brunette had always been jealous of his bodyguard, always compared by peers in either height, power, or even looks. He was, after all, the older brother of the famous Hanejima Yuuhei. That was it, though, that was the last straw to make him snap unjustly at his so called friend.

If Izaya had known, he would have commented on how ugly human emotions could be. However, all he knew was that somehow, Tom had started to gather delinquents into one underground group. It was new, but the reports were fast to spread and over the days it had grown into an immense size. The group was secretive in activity, and it was hard to pinpoint who was actually in it. It was convenient for the leader this way, but he never expected a certain informer to catch on quickly.

Izaya had started to investigate the rumors around Roselia's father after that message. He kept in contact with her constantly, giving her absolute instructions such as keeping this matter about the blonde haired man a secret. He had even scared her into thinking that if she told anyone, her life would be in danger. The brunette comforted her that he would keep her safe in the meantime and she had easy fallen into his hands as a pawn.

But the enemy was no king or queen on the chess table. He was a shogi piece, an intricate male who concealed himself behind the hide of others.

Izaya himself, would cut in, acting as neither. The observer and the informer. The black and white side of the reversi.

So naturally, he would intervene.

The gang that Tom had set up in attempts to crush Shizuo had fallen into shambles in one night. It was like someone stitching up cloth that was getting cut up from behind. Eventually the scissors would catch up.

That night, Tom was there. He was watching what he thought would be a big enough group of brutes that even Shizuo would have trouble against. Yet, he was the one that had fallen into the trap instead. Izaya had shown himself that day. Someone no one knew existed until then. He had leaked information on both sides. Tom's group and their biggest rivals. Shizuo, who was not aware that he had been set up by his employer was there too.

Their eyes met.

They were so close. If Izaya had spread his wings, his hand out just a little, he would have been able to touch the blonde. He didn't. He couldn't, and instead, he smirked. He had forgotten how to cry, and instead learned that when he felt this way, he put on this fake smile that deteriorated each day.

But even when the gangs collided and crashed, Tom would not give up.

Not yet.

He turned off the water and walked back to where the unsuspecting blonde sat. Holding his phone open by his coat pocket, he spoke clearly so the informer could hear as well. "Shizuo. There's something I need to discuss with you…"

* * *

Guess I'm really lazy so I'm going to have to continue this in a third chapter.

Thanks for reading, and really, I don't know about Izaya's game board, but that's how I saw it as. It it's not too much trouble, please tell me what you think.

Oh, I love Tom I really do. XD;


End file.
